Gigantic Problems
by PotterGatsbyHolmes
Summary: Doug is the new guy in town and he's having a hard time fitting in. Not to the community - just the buildings. Until our favourite radio host does a bit of Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo and he's seeing things a whole different way. And, say, is that Earl Harlan? And, say, are they falling in love? Surely not. Maybe if we read this, information shall be revealed. For CarlosBottoms, you dork.


Earl looked down dejectedly at his sauce pan, his gingery reflection wavering softly. A large black bubble escaped from the boiling mass of liquid and floated up past his face, exploding with a loud sound, like a record scratching. From across the kitchen he could hear the usual pots banging, toads screaming and gas ovens roaring. The comforting sounds of the kitchen. But no matter how much screaming emanated from the fridge, Earl's heart still felt broken and useless. He'd taken it out and checked it was still intact for his monthly health check, and it was. So why was he so… sad? He guessed it had to do with Cecil having a new best friend. Carlos the Scientist (what even was that guy's last name?) He missed hanging out with him. He missed his dorky grin, his tattoos, his tentacles… and what they done with them back then. But now there was Carlos, who was a nice enough guy he guessed.

"EARL. STOP DAYDREAMING. I HAVE FOUR ORDERS FOR THE HOODED FIGURES AND I ONLY JUST REINSTALLED THE PHYSICAL PRESENCE OF THE FLOOR. DO NOT MAKE THEM UNHAPPY."

He sighed miserably and threw in some pistachios into the soup which hissed viciously in response.

"Coming."

Doug ducked his head to fit through the door of the white cubed building. It looked sterile and a little frightening. Doug decided he didn't like walls, not after being in that desert for so long, with wide purple skies and endless pale red sands. His shoulder grazed the doorway roughly and he muttered angrily.

"I do not see what is so 'wonderful' about this establishment, Cecil Palmer, male spouse to Carlos the Scientist," he growled. The overly excited human looked up at him, beaming."

"Trust me, Doug buddy, the food here is to _die _for. Literally. Carlos did you bring the goat?"

"The one you were going to sacrifice?" Carlos the Scientist replied, exasperated.

"Yeah, I set up the cage in the car."

"Cecil, I'm not going to sacrifice a goat, or any other animal for that matter, in order to get a meal."

"It's a _five star_ meal!"

"Cecil."

"Goats are disgusting, _evil_ beasts!"

"Cecil!"

"I'm just saying I would be willing to rid the earth of one for a bowl of blueberry blood gelato."

Carlos the Scientist placed a hand against his forehead and walked with his spouse towards a long black booth at the far wall. Doug felt four hovering, humming beings watch him as he passed them, nearly on his knees. His head was scratched badly by an obsidian chandelier and he fell awkwardly next to the booth that situated his human friends. Carlos shot him a sympathetic glance.

"This is the biggest restaurant in Night Vale. We couldn't find…"

"And we'd already had this reservation for months," added Cecil passive aggressively, clearly upset about Doug being what he heard people call a 'third wheel'. This carried a generally negative connotation among humans, he found, but Carlos the Scientist didn't seem to be angry about it. And Carlos' opinion was the only one he cared about in this town. After returning his friend from the endless desert (via the patch of land designated 'the dog park') a small number of his troops decided to stay in this strange, cramped world, including himself. Although, they still stayed out in the scrublands and the sand wastes so they didn't destroy the town, stretching out under the stars and unidentifiable lights hovering overhead.

Carlos showed obvious discomfort at Doug's own, and Cecil seemed to notice. He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes and… kept rolling them. His hair glowed a deep purple and black sand-like tendrils emanated from his fingertips and curled themselves around Doug's wrists.

"Cecil Palmer, may I ask what you are doing?" he asked, panicking severely.

Carlos the Scientist's spouse didn't answer, but mumbled deeply in a strange language. The tables shook and Doug could feel his feet and hands shrinking to human size. He gasped as the sand swirled around his entire body as the world got larger and larger until he sat on the floor, looking up at a very startled Carlos. He looked back and forth from his spouse to Doug's new form.

"Cecil!" he cried, "How did you do that?" Cecil Palmer's eyes stopped spinning and the sand evaporated into thin air, his hair returned to its soft blond with only a faint tint of purple.

"As a licensed Class One Radio Host, I'm permitted to perform three pieces of dark magic annually."

"You… you did that for Doug?" There was so much love in Carlos the Scientist's eyes that Doug blushed. This was an intimate moment.

"Yes, but mostly I did it for you," Cecil Palmer replied, and smiled apologetically at Doug. He nodded back and any previous tension dissipated. Carlos the Scientist picked up his menu and studied it happily, his long brown hair brushing Cecil Palmer's shoulder. Doug inwardly smiled. These two male spouses were the most in love beings he had come across. Not that he met many humans. He looked around at the cluttered restaurant. _Tourniquet. _It looked very different from a human perspective, and the roof which before seemed far too close for his liking was far above his head, an unreachable white sky. Everything was square, and edged, save for the black bubbles escaping from the kitchen doors as they swung open. A shabbily dressed, gangly human seemed to fall through the doors, looking back at the doors angrily. Someone threw a white bow tie in his face and he put down the tray he carried to fix it to his throat. He was covered in freckles and had soft, gingery hair and moved very fluidly. The human did not look happy about being used as a servant to customers, but he fixed a smile to his face, revealing only slightly crooked teeth, and breezed over to the black humming figures that had been watching Doug since he arrived. He bowed and placed a bowl in front of each of them, gestured out the window cheerily and seemed to wish them an enjoyable meal before returning to the kitchen, grin vanishing once more.

He wasn't a waiter. If Mason wanted a good reputation, he'd have to have reliable, calm, clean cut waiters and not harried, busy sous chefs in bow ties. He threw a scowl towards his boss, but the older man didn't notice. He was too busy wrestling one of the giant eels that were in today's soup, crimson venom splattering the walls. Earl tugged the ridiculous white rag off his throat and moved back to his station. He told Mason, 'don't hire an angel to be a waiter', but Mason was hell bent on hiring one because, as they didn't exist, he wouldn't have to pay it.

"Taxes, Harlan," he'd said, "It's a money saving technique. American's have been finding ways around expensive labour for hundreds of years. I am simply carrying on tradition."

Earl didn't like LeShawn Mason much.

The hours ticked by and slowly the customers trickled out, all except, Earl noticed, Cecil, his boyfriend, that random guy sitting next to them and the hooded figures, surveying the restaurant maliciously. Earl did not like the hooded figures much either. Finally, it was closing time and Mason sent him out to disperse the remaining patrons. He pushed morosely through the swinging doors to find the hooded figures gone. The floor and roof was still intact and they had an extra window now; one made of beautiful stained glass depicting a great grinning beast being wrestled viciously by a large, tribal-looking man, wrought in deep purples and bright oranges. Apparently the meal was sufficient. He tore his eyes away from the work of art and towards Cecil's table. He looked so happy, Earl thought sadly. It was great that he was happy, but he wanted to be the cause of that happiness.

Instead it was Dr Scientist with the PhD in Hair.

He loped easily over to the table and clapped his hands.

"Okay folks, it's closing time. Last call. It is the moment of departure. The period in linear continuity concerned with you guys leaving the establishment has arrived. Etcetera, or whatever."

Cecil's face lit up upon seeing him.

"Earl! I was going to see if you were working tonight after we finished dinner!"

"I've been in the same room as you like fifteen times tonight, CP." His friend looked mortified.

"Oh, I am so, so sorry. I've just been a little caught up." Earl knew that. Ten out of the fifteen times he'd waited tonight Cecil and Carlos had been nuzzled up to each other, their friend looking anywhere but them.

"Who's this?" Earl asked, gesturing towards said friend. Carlos answered.

"This is Doug. He's a captain from the giant army in that desert, the one that helped us with all that Strex business."

"Giant?" Earl looked the man over. Sure, he was what – seven foot, but hardly a _giant. _He'd seen members of that army and they were a heck of a lot bigger than this guy.

"Dark magic," replied Carlos excitedly. Cecil blushed and lightly hit his arm.

"Shhh," he giggled, and Earl had an overwhelming urge to vomit.

"Okay well, it's nice to meet you, Doug. Now, if you'll excuse a rude old sous chef, y'all need to get on home now."

"Do we have to?" Cecil asked like a child being told to go to bed.

"CP, it's like two in the morning. Go home. Do what you want there, but we have to shut up shop, with you in here or not. And I would not like to stay here after the locks close. Mason sterilizes this place with a toxic mix of nightshade, bleach and honeysuckle."

"What's so toxic about honeysuckle?" asked Carlos, but Cecil stopped him.

"We don't speak of it…" he whispered and a low orchestral bass played somewhere deep in the night. Doug looked out the window curiously and Earl found himself looking at the man's (giant's?) jawline. It was like an anvil… He shook himself off and jingled the keys. Cecil rolled his eyes and nodded. They all stood and made their way to the door, Doug a little tipsy. He fell towards Earl and he caught him involuntarily, the other man's large chest crashing into his slight frame like a brick wall.

"Oh, freckled human, I am so very sorry. Please forgive me," he mumbled in earnest. Earl helped him get his balance and nodded.

"It's fine, buddy. The name's Earl, and I'm used to it. Mason's ginger-fish whiskey is very popular." Doug smiled at him shyly with the heavy lidded eyes of the drunk.

"It's very nice to meet you, Earl. You're very handsome. And pretty."

Um. That wasn't something other folk inebriated with ginger-fish whiskey said often.

"Uh…thanks?"

"You are most welcome, smaller human designated Earl." Doug was grinning stupidly and a part of Earl's stomach fluttered. He shook it away and directed the large man towards the door.

"Okay, big fella, you get on home now."

"Yes, Earl."

Cecil and Carlos each held on to one of his arms and helped him out the door. Before they left Cecil hugged him with one arm and promised to meet up with him soon. Earl nodded dumbly and watched them leave, silhouetted by the weird-ass lights overhead.

Doug staggered onto Cecil Palmer's sofa, falling with a tremendous crash. Somewhere in the background he heard Carlos the… whatever… talking with his male copulation partner.

"Cecil, I know this was supposed to be our special night but he's not in any fit state to walk, and even though you shrunk him I wouldn't be surprised if he can't even fit in the car. Plus, what if something happened to him out in the desert?"

"Carlos, he commands an entire battalion of giants. What could possibly happen to him out there with them protecting him?"

"He could be _stepped _on, for one thing. How long does this spell last?"

"Hey, I just cast the spells, not know anything about them." There was a long silence, and Doug's warm, fuzzy brain almost fell asleep. Then Cecil spoke, making the soft quiet shudder with his deep, lulling voice. "Fine, for you Carlos. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. We'll organise another night later in the week." There was a rustling of clothing and he heard Carlos thank Cecil quietly.

"I liked that waiter human…" mumbled Doug, smiling vaguely, "He was funny…"

"Okay, buddy," Carlos giggled. With that, Doug gave into the cosy darkness of this new magical thing called 'ginger-fish whiskey'.

When Doug awoke the niceness he fell asleep to had vanished from the world, leaving him in a painful fog of harsh noise. A blonde haired man dressed in a long pink toga banged around in the small kitchen, crashing as few pots and pans as he could, although it sounded to Doug quite the opposite. He rolled over, groaning. Cecil stopped moving and whispered, "Doug? Are you awake?" He nodded sorely, the movement sending sparks of dull red pain through his eyes. "Sorry about the noise. You giants mustn't be used to alcohol." Doug shook his head and promptly stopped due to the world was spinning. Cecil resumed his cooking as quietly as possible and multiple minutes later Carlos arrived wearing a dark blue kimono. He wrapped his arms around Cecil's waist as the smell of human breakfast wafted throughout the house. Right now though, Doug did not feel like eating. Or doing anything. All stimuli was agony. Why did humans do this? What possible good could make up for the pain he felt now? Carlos tip toed over to the sofa bed, where someone had draped a long, wide, thickly knitted scarf across Doug's legs.

"Mornin', big guy. How are you?"

"Gnnnnnnh…" he groaned, covering his eyes.

"Cecil, Doug is like hard-core hung-over. As a scientist I have seen these signs before. Should we do something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Night Vale's the most interesting scientific phenomenon in history. Surely you've got _something _for hang overs."

"Try water," replied Cecil, "He's just dehydrated."

"Is that what you do?"

"You've never been hung over?"

"No, but I've read about it." Doug moaned again as Cecil turned on the tap, filling a large pint jug with a clear, slightly gold liquid.

Earl awoke to an empty bed, an empty house, an empty soul. Well, that wasn't completely true. The City Council had topped it up just last Tuesday for his bi-monthly spiritual. It was like a physical for the soul or whatever. Point was – Earl was lonely. And dejected. And he _really _didn't want to go into work today. He liked cooking, yeah, and was pretty good at it. But Mason was a jerk and he really didn't want to meet a jerk today. He thought back to what Cecil had said all those months ago on one of his shows. There are no real world consequences in Night Vale, aside from the ones enforced by the Sherriff's Secret Police, the City Council, the Lizard Kings, Strex that one time, deer, the Hooded Figures, the Universe… actually there were a lot of consequences for a lot of things. Never mind. He just wouldn't go in to work and see what happened. It wasn't like working in a place like that was increasing his financial prospects. His apartment was shabby to say the least. Rotting plaster, a sunken bed, spiders constantly marching in a line through the kitchen night or day, that long green tendril in the bathroom sink, and drafts were just some of the bones he had to pick with this building.

"What good did that job ever do me anyway?" he asked the ceiling.

"None," it answered.

"Exactly. It wasn't healthy, or ethical, or fun… There was no respect."

"None."

"Right. So maybe I'll just quit. Yeah! I should quit."

"Okay," the ceiling mumbled sleepily beginning to snore. Earl gazed at it for a moment more and leapt out of bed. He grasped his old scout scarf, threw it around his neck and hastily got dressed. Before he knew it he was out in the bright, blinding desert sunshine and walked briskly to the Moonlite All-Nite Diner for a slice of pie. He hadn't had pie for breakfast in years and entered the grimy metal entrance into the hideously retro café. Some kind of music that reminded him of gypsies was playing over the static-y Styrofoam speakers as he slid into a booth. The waitress looked over at his absently and he telepathically ordered invisible pie with a scoop of bok choy ice-cream and a strawberry milkshake. As he waited for his order, the adrenaline of skipping work began to ebb, and he wondered vaguely what he was going to do today. He couldn't stay here the entire time. He'd look as crazy as Normal Nick, a clean shaven man who always wore a tweed jacket, clean shirt, pressed pants, polished shoes and fashionable tie. Rumour had it he had once been a professor in a reasonably sized city, with a wife and two children. He was so utterly normal that no-one approached him, not even the City Council. He decided to walk through Grove Park. Maybe he'd visit THE BROWN STONE SPIRE or perhaps he'd try and sneak a peek over the Dog Park fence. The waitress looked over at him sharply and he sighed.

"Fine, I won't." She stared at him doubtfully for a full half hour, even as he finished his pie and nearly drained his milkshake. It made him uncomfortable, but he stayed slurping at his milkshake and staring straight back at her. The door roared savagely at a new customer and the waitress' gaze was finally distracted.

"Ha!" cried Earl victoriously and throwing his hands in the air, spilling the rest of his drink. "Oh."

The hulking frame of the most tired being Earl had ever seen loped over to the strange leather barstools and ordered incorporeal carrot cake sprinkled with Mexican sand, leaning heavily on the bench top. "Um, could I get another milkshake here please?" Earl asked, trying to stop the slimy substance from crawling away energetically. The waitress rolled her crimson eyes and moved towards the kitchen, leaving him alone in the establishment except for the giant man… wait.

"Doug?" The huge figure turned around to reveal a sun-darkened, grinning face.

"Earl the Waiter!" he cried, joyous booming voice nearly shattering the tinted windows of the diner. Earl smiled uneasily and waved. This guy was oddly excitable.

"How's that ginger-fish whiskey treating you?" Doug took this as an invitation to join him in his booth and lumbered over, recovering from his smile and grimacing.

"Not well."

Earl laughed at his pain and what was left of Doug's hangover screamed in protest.

"Oh, sorry, man," the waiter human apologised and they sat looking at one another silently. Doug was inexplicably drawn to this man. He was… delicate. But strong. That did not make sense to the captain. How could a mere human seem contradictory in such a manner? He was beginning to appreciate humans, even ones that were not Carlos the Scientist. Doug stared happily at Earl's gingery hair, constellations of freckles, pointed nose, large open hands and the nape of his neck visible beneath his frayed collar… Earl looked back at him too, taking in his enormous size. It was still strange getting used to walls and doors and being this size. But Doug thought if he was around Earl, learning would be a little more entertaining. He blushed as the rogue thought shot through his mind and coughed loudly, shattering the silence around them. The waitress appeared almost instantly with the cake and milkshake, shoving them on to the table crossly.

"No need to be so impatient," she snapped at him and marched away to hum in the corner. Earl's ears had turned bright red and he frowned at Doug, twiddling his thumbs. He wanted to say something. That was obvious, so Doug remained silent.

"So, um… Doug. Last night, you were, um… quite drunk…"

"To put it favourably."

"Yes, that was a bit funny wasn't it? Ha… I don't suppose you had alcohol out in that massive desert of yours?" Doug shook his head.

"Nothing of the sort, thank the darkness. None of my soldiers would remain in an unaltered state of consciousness." A creeping mist appeared outside the window, turning the sky a speckled mauve. The light fell softly on the waiter's face and Doug's hearts began to do almost literal acrobatics.

"Uh," Earl continued, "well you said something last night that I just thought was hilarious. You know, uh, made quite the impression." Doug frowned and thought back through the haze of memories from the night before. He remembered seeing Earl, eating his meal (not before it bit him viciously, giggling) and then the bottle of poisonous liqueur being brought out and… not much after that, really. Earl spied his confused expression and quickly brushed his comment aside.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter, never mind." Doug opened his mouth to object but Earl spoke over him. "The carrot cake here is delicious. A lovely balance of air particles and dust motes, really. Um. After this do you maybe want to do something? I've got the whole day."

"Where?" Doug asked, looking around.

"What? No, I'm free. I have nothing to do. Do you want to go for a walk or something?"

"YES," Doug answered enthusiastically. Nothing would please his under large hearts more than spending time with this human, he was certain. Earl looked flustered and a little frightened.

"Okay, then, Big Guy. We'll finish up and…uh… go somewhere, I guess." A nervous smile flashed across his face and Doug felt a great swelling of emotion in his veins.

The soft purple mist was still hanging around when they arrived at Grove Park. On the way they had discussed the weather (Earl's favourite was 'Stupid' and Doug's 'This Too Shall Pass'), favourite eateries in Night Vale ("Yours," Doug blushed) and all manner of small but interesting things. The sun had set early again tonight, but quieter than usual. Earl looked at the big man beside him, who he'd been liking more and more as the day wore on. Without saying anything he slipped a long pale hand into Doug's large, warm calloused one. The man gasped a little and tightened his grip. Earl leaned his head against Doug's bicep as they walked.

"You're pretty great, you know?" he said.

"Um…thank you, wait- Earl."

"Do you really think I'm handsome? Or pretty or whatever?" Doug coughed clumsily and his face turned blood red.

"Excuse me?"

"You said that last night," Earl reminded him, "Ginger-fish whiskey, remember?" It seemed Doug did remember, and Earl felt the other man's palms beginning to sweat.

"Well, uh, I do think you're uh…handsome, and you do seem to possess the human perception of 'prettiness'… as to the aspect of 'whatever' I am afraid such a dismissive term cannot be applied to someone as…uh… wonderful as you." Earl's heart thudded idiotically against his sternum.

"I think you're handsome too, Captain Doug." They sat down on the warm, dark blue grass and watched Old Woman Josie playing chess with her winged friends. Over under a big thick oak tree dripping with cherries Steve Carlsberg played Frisbee with Cecil's niece, and they could see…if you moved a touch to the left…a woman talking quietly to a large five-headed reptile. They sat for quite some time, until all the residents of Night Vale had gone home, or to the Moonlite All-Nite and Earl huddled against Doug for warmth.

"Best reason for skipping work _ever_," he said happily. Doug stared at him for a while, he could feel his gaze on the top of his head. Then the man reached under Earl's skinny chin with rough fingers and lifted his lips to his own. Earl was instantly enveloped by the smell of warm sand, clean air and for some reason, magnolias. Either way, it was damn nice. He wrapped his arms around Doug's neck and pressed against the ex-giant's body with all he had, sending him sprawling. Doug broke away panting.

"You caught me off guard," he laughed.

"This is just payback for smooching me out of the blue." Doug's face turned serious.

"Well that was a capital offence. Perhaps a more intensive phase of revenge is required. To achieve maximum retribution." Earl obliged – thoroughly. It wasn't long before he lost all sense of where he was, what the day was, or even that Night Vale existed. He was adrift in this intoxicating world of lips and limbs and love – wait. No. Not love. He couldn't love. Not after Cecil.

He pulled away from Doug's massive grasp and sat back on his knees.

"Earl?" Doug asked dreamily, "What are you doing? Do you want to go somewhere more private? Because I can arrange that. Right now if necessary. I'm being serious. Do you want to go now? We can go now. Earl…"

"Doug, I don't think I can."

"Oh. Well that's alright. I mean, this is wonderful enough. Kissing you is the single best thing I have ever experienced."

"No, Doug, I mean, I can't do this. Kiss you. Hold you. Love you. I…can't." Oh god. The captain's heartbreak was painted on his face in thick broad crimson strokes. His eyes welled with water, and he held a hand to them shocked.

"What have you done? What's happening? Earl!" Earl held out a hand to steady him.

"You're crying. It's alright. It's a human thing. You do it when you're sad."

"R-really?"

"Yeah."

"Well. I am sad. I am more than sad. I am… in pain. Why can you not love me, Earl Harlan?" This guy was so naïve. How to explain…

"You know Cecil? The radio host?"

"Carlos the Scientist's spouse?" Earl cringed.

"Yes. Well he and I used to be best friends. Best…everything." Doug cocked his head, tears streaming and forgotten. "I loved him. Sometimes I think I still do. When he was chosen to be a radio host he was real young, like 16. We'd just… well. Anyway, we were really close at that time. But slowly the people around him began to disappear. Mother, brother, his father wasn't there from the beginning, so he was pretty lonely. I was the last one to be taken. But unlike the first two, I wasn't going down without a fight. Every time they took someone away, I saw Cecil die a little – the Cecil I knew was fading. And I knew I was next. So I kind of set a trap, using my scouting abilities and myself as bait. The shadows came through the mirrors, so I placed a whole lot of them around me and waited. They appeared after a couple of minutes and I fought as many as I could. They couldn't take everyone away from Cecil. They couldn't." He was crying now, remembering how he'd screamed and been stolen away so easily. Almost too easily. And Cecil never knew. Never knew what happened to him or what he'd tried to do. "They made me disappear too. And I was stuck in some weird space-scape for what felt like eternity. The only word I remember is "mud-womb" but I don't think that relates to much. So now I'm here, and I can't go back there because I love someone. Selfless as love is supposed to be I can't go back there. Not ever." Doug had stopped crying by then. He leant forward and held Earl's face in his broad, cracked hands.

"I'm not asking you to," he said, kissing him softly on the forehead, "I just want to be next to you."

"Yeah? Well how's that gonna work anyway, Mr I-could-turn-into-a-giant-at-any-moment? What then? Even if I _wanted_ to get physical (Doug flinched at the ice in Earl's voice) we'd be somewhat incompatible what with you 50 feet up in the air and me all the way down here."

"Earl, please," Doug sobbed, "I would turn human for you." That shut him up.

"What?" his love gasped.

"I would turn into a human to be with you. Forever. Or however long humans live. I am unfamiliar with your life-cycle." Earl's face had gone into shock, and he stared dumbly at Doug with the eyes he loved so much. How could he feel this way after a two days? He did not know. Quite honestly, he did not care. Earl was the best human he had ever met, in all aspects. He would give anything to have his feelings reciprocated – even if it meant giving up his post, body and life before Night Vale.

"You don't mean that."

"With both my hearts."

"No, you don-…wait – you have two hearts?" Doug nodded. Didn't Earl? "Um, okay, well you still don't mean that. You don't know what it means to be human. The physical pathetic-ness, the insatiable urge for communication and by god, the _taxes. _I hate taxes." Doug could not stand this rejection any longer. He threw himself towards Earl and crushed lips against his. The addictive smell of pine trees, hot coals and soft sheets thundered through his mind and Earl sighed, breath warm across his face.

"Doug, I can't…"

"But you have to. Please, please, Earl…" He linked his tree trunk arms around the waiter's skinny waist and pressed him to the ground.

"Ouch! Thistle! Thistle in my butt!" Doug immediately let go and Earl scrabbled around to check his jeans back pocket. A long piece of spiked greenery was sticking out of the maroon material.

"I'll get it," said Doug, and he gently removed the offensive foliage. It bit at him savagely but he squashed it under his palm.

"My hero," laughed Earl before trailing off, leaving naught but the sound of cars and crickets echoing through the park. "Would you really do it? For me? Turn human?" Doug nodded solemnly. "Then I'd do the same for you."

"What?"

"What have I got to lose here? Really? A job I hate, a boss I hate, and a ceiling that is not improving the situation. I can see Cecil and what's-his-face-Pantene-Perfect…"

"Carlos the Scientist."

"…just like you do and… well…I love you."

"There is that," added Doug helpfully.

"Yeah," Earl chuckled, "there's that. Look I don't know how, but I do. I love you, you big giant-dork."

"I love you too, human-Earl. Do you see what I did? I imbued your name with the connotation that you are a dork."

"I know. That surely deserves some revenge. If not for the 'dork' part then definitely for the 'being a terrible joke' part."

"We are building up quite a tabulation of feuds. This does not seem an appropriate foundation for a relationship."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" Earl teased, getting to his feet.

"Never stop kissing you," Doug replied and tackled the smaller man to the ground.


End file.
